<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Choke me like you hate me by SheWritesDirty</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252191">Choke me like you hate me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWritesDirty/pseuds/SheWritesDirty'>SheWritesDirty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bury Me Face Down [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Biting, Blood, Choking, Coming In Pants, Enemies, Fighting, Frottage, Hate fucking, Hypothermia is not a concept that I am aware of, M/M, Pain Kink, Rivalry, Snow, Under-negotiated Kink, king steve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:34:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWritesDirty/pseuds/SheWritesDirty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fight back.” Billy demanded, voice tight — barely controlled violence seeping out of every pore.</p><p>“Nah.” Steve answered, gurgling a little on the blood dripping down the back of his throat. He realized in that moment, that he was never gonna win against Billy. </p><p>That it was just like everything else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bury Me Face Down [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Choke me like you hate me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this months ago but I finally found the time to clean it up and rewrite the entire sex scene. Cheers! </p><p>(I’m so sorry... the name… I couldn't fucking help myself LOL)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There had always been so many expectations for him. All the money and charm, the good looks… the athleticism. How could he not succeed, with every single star lining up for him like that?</p><p>Of course, the problem wasn’t in any of those things — but it <em> was </em> in him. Lying just under the surface, hiding deep down until he couldn’t manage to keep it a secret anymore.</p><p>Apathy. It was like a poison in his bloodstream, the way he couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t pay attention at school, which was fine until all of a sudden it caught up with him... and then he couldn’t catch up with it. He fell so far behind it felt like trying to wade through quicksand. </p><p>It just kept pulling him down.</p><p>And like, he didn’t have the kind of drive it took to get back out again. Leaned into it, instead. Accepted the fact that he wasn’t gonna fix it, that he chose not to. </p><p>He still had basketball, anyway. At least he <em> thought </em> he did, he was the best on the team. Which was really working for him, because it meant he didn’t have to try. He just showed up, did well. </p><p>Until the new kid showed <em> him </em> up, hit the court with fire and passion. </p><p>Left him in the dust.</p><p>Steve was the big fish in a small pond. But the new kid was like a shark, and there was blood in the water now.</p><p>Whatever… he still had weed. No one was better at getting high and wasting their life on Tommy’s couch than Hawkins very own <em> King </em> Steve Harrington.</p><p>Tommy was like… his best friend, which made it all the more annoying when the guy invited the new kid along. Like this wasn’t supposed to be just Steve and Tommy, childhood friends getting blazed ‘till they couldn’t stop laughing at shit that wasn’t even funny… like this wasn't just between them.</p><p>Like it wasn’t special.</p><p>The new kid was annoying, he brought his California sized ego with him. Never forgot to remind everyone that he was better than Hawkins, always had to prove it. Sharp eyes, a sharper tongue… liked talking circles around everyone, making jokes at their expense.</p><p>Did it in that way that had you laughing, ‘cause it was <em> good</em>. Despite the way it pierced deep, like a needle pushed under skin… it stung, and it lingered. </p><p>Tommy loved it... Tommy was a fucking <em> masochist</em>.</p><p>And maybe Steve was a little bitter. Mad about the whole basketball thing, mad that the new kid… <em> Billy</em>… had come in the first day and knocked Steve on his ass, wiped the floor with him. Offered a hand only to shove Steve back down, grinning.</p><p>Everyone thought he was so damn awesome.</p><p>So Steve ignored him, focused on sucking down weed smoke and filling his lungs ‘till his eyes burned. </p><p>Billy and Tommy chatted. Like old friends, laughing and passing a blunt. Fucking <em> sharing</em>. And Steve was ignoring them, not that Billy had given him so much as a glance when he came in. Not that Tommy had said a single thing to him, since Billy got here. Since his new — <em> buddy</em>. His brand new <em> pal — </em> had arrived.</p><p>Steve suddenly couldn’t tell if he was ignoring them, or if they were ignoring him.</p><p>And then Tommy was up, promises of an entire bottle of Jack that his dad wouldn’t miss on his lips… heading up the stairs, out of the basement. He left them alone. And Billy was slowly letting his head roll, fixing Steve with a lazy smile.“If looks could kill.” He said, voice dragging. Rough and crackling with his high.</p><p>Yeah okay, maybe Steve was glaring. Maybe he made it painfully obvious that he didn’t fucking <em> like </em>Billy Hargrove. He just snorted, coughed on the smoke a little. Made sure the look of disgust on his face could strip paint off walls.</p><p>And Billy just grinned wider<em>, </em> all teeth and spite and not even a bit genuine for one goddamn <em> second</em>. He looked manic, on the edge.</p><p>He looked like he lived for this shit.</p><p>“Who are we kidding, we know who’d really win in a fight here— don’t we, <em> king </em> ?”<br/><br/>And then Tommy was back, sneakers heavy on steps before Steve could come up with a reply to that.</p><p>“Time to get fucking wasted!” Tommy yelled, holding the whiskey up triumphantly… he finally looked at Steve.</p><p>And Steve kind of just wanted to leave.</p><p>But Tommy<em> looked </em>at him, and Steve stayed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Alcohol mixed with weed always got Steve stupid, sloppy, happy and <em> easy</em>. And so fucked up that he forgot how fucked up he was. Billy just got worse, antagonistic. The guy kept pushing at Steve’s buttons.</p><p>Tommy was oblivious, he was the type of girl who’d pass out and get passed around. He was lucky he had a dick. Lucky, that Steve liked to keep an eye out for him. Just in case someone didn’t care.</p><p>Snow was coming down outside, a lot of it<em>— </em> and they were all too fucked to drive on a good day… so they were staying the night, and Tommy was too tired to move. Steve found pillows and blankets, and Billy scoffed and made fun of him for acting like this was a sleepover.</p><p>Asked if he wanted to braid his hair, next.</p><p>Steve said something about how Billy <em> did </em> have some pretty luscious locks— earned himself a solid punch right in the arm. Tommy just laughed about it, Billy wasn’t laughing.</p><p>He felt too good to do much in retaliation, just rubbed at his sore arm and smiled stupidly. He liked making Tommy laugh, and it was even better when he made Tommy laugh at <em> Billy</em>.</p><p>They all settled down into their respective spots, and Tommy sat next to Steve this time. Prattled on and on about how Carol had been giving him the cold shoulder lately, Steve told him it was probably because he’d done something stupid.</p><p>No one could really argue with that.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“So much damn snow.” </p><p>It felt like hours had passed, Tommy was asleep now— had shuffled over and laid on Steve’s lap. He probably woulda shoved the kid off, if he hadn’t caught the jealous look glittering in Billy’s eyes.</p><p>Billy was still on the other couch across the room... just staring out the sliding glass doors, watching snow pile up in Tommy’s backyard. Glowing white— lit up by the moon overhead, shadows of pine trees slicing out over the surface.</p><p>Snow was beautiful for the first day, then it got dirty and turned into slush and Steve<em> hated </em> it.</p><p>Billy just seemed transfixed, watching the flakes cling and drift down… sticky, damp. The kind of heavy shit that made your arms ache so bad when you tried to shovel the drive.</p><p>“You ever seen it before?” And he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d asked that, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Billy. But he was relaxed, high and drunk and his hand was in Tommy’s hair, his fingertips tracing little circles through the roots and he just felt <em> good</em>.</p><p>Billy didn’t answer, and when Steve looked over — his jaw was grinding, he looked pissed. Steve didn’t know what he’d done.</p><p>“What do you think?” Billy fired back, which just… didn’t make any damn <em> sense, </em>his anger. Steve wondered if he was so high that he’d missed something.</p><p>Then Billy was getting up, clearing the distance to the sliding doors and pushing them open. Going out into the snow, no jacket, no nothing. Steve just... watched Billy leave the door wide open, shivering as cold air flooded into the room.</p><p>It took him about two seconds, before he was easing Tommy off his lap… getting up and following Billy into the snow.</p><p>“Fuck, it’s cold.” Billy was saying, teeth chattering.</p><p>“No shit.” Steve wasn’t quite as affected, he was used to the frigid temperatures in December. His breath blew out in thick clouds, hanging heavy in the air. His thoughts lost — slow in his head as he stared out into Tommy’s backyard.</p><p>Fenced in all perfect and neat, the trampoline that he became friends with Tommy in the first place for, disassembled for the winter season and standing there like a husk of itself.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing out there but, he knew he was getting cold... was about to turn and walk back in when— A snowball hit him right in the face, heavy and frozen. It had him reeling back a little, wet slush dripping down the front of his shirt.</p><p>“What the fuck!” Steve yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet night.</p><p>Billy howled with laughter, hunched over and clung to his stomach.</p><p>Steve tackled him, and Billy let out of a huff of surprise — went down easy, hadn’t been expecting it. His back hit snow, and Steve straddled him. Swept a whole pile of snow onto his face and pretended to smother him with it.</p><p><em> Pretended</em>.</p><p>Billy just flailed, sputtered under the snow and grappled for Steve’s arms.  Steve had the element of surprise, but Billy was stronger —  flipped him easily, rolled and got on top.</p><p>“You’re fuckin’ <em> dead.” </em>Billy growled, face red and dripping with melting snow… the words ‘if looks could kill’ echoed in Steve’s head. The sound he made at the back of his throat was fear.</p><p>Definitely fear… it wasn’t arousal.</p><p>Billy’s knuckles felt like a freight-train, made contact quick and hard with Steve’s nose. One solid punch that echoed through his skull, had his head snapping to the side… blood spraying out over snow and…</p><p>Fuck if that wasn’t beautiful.</p><p>Steve was still pretty wasted, and his reaction time was garbage. He just stared at the blood in the snow, vibrant red soaking into stark white... head turned to the side, nose throbbing, cheek burning from where it was pressed into the icy cold.</p><p>Billy was breathing hard above him, fist poised like he was ready to give Steve another one.</p><p>“Fight back.” Billy demanded, voice tight — barely controlled violence seeping out of every pore.</p><p>“Nah.” Steve answered, gurgling a little on the blood dripping down the back of his throat. He realized in that moment, that he was never gonna win against Billy. </p><p>That it was just like everything else.</p><p>He didn’t have the same kind of fire, the same kind of drive that kept Billy snapping and spitting poison... Steve just wanted to give up. He turned his head and looked up, caught the confusion on Billy’s face… the hatred lying just underneath. The guy wanted a fight, <em> liked </em> it — must have thought Steve was gonna be that for him.</p><p>“Fight. Back.” Billy repeated, gritting his teeth… dropping his fist and wrapping his hands around Steve’s neck instead.</p><p>Fingers ice cold from snow, tightening and constricting… his eyes glazed over as he stared up at Billy, sharp focused blue staring back. Steve fought for breath, sputtering— his mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood.</p><p>Snow was falling around them, sticking to Billy’s lashes, clinging in his hair… the light of the moon casting everything in an almost ethereal glow.</p><p>Steve’s head felt fuzzy, black spots swimming in his vision as he tried to focus on Billy’s face… he looked so pretty like that, staring back down at Steve. An expression he’d never seen before in that face, anger melting away to something that looked a little more like fear.</p><p>His lungs were burning, trying to suck air in despite getting nothing… throat trying to work under Billy’s grip, hands coming up to wrap cautiously around Billy’s wrists. He didn’t pull though, just held on. Like this was a ride, and he just needed to brace himself a little.</p><p>It felt like dying, and he embraced it.</p><p>But Billy was loosening his grip suddenly… and the following breath that Steve sucked in hurt so<em> bad</em>, he might have preferred never breathing again. Tears spilled over the edge of his eyes, his lungs rattling in his chest, as he sucked in blood and air and coughed it all back up.</p><p>Watched it fleck over Billy’s face, little droplets of pink foam.</p><p>“You’re fuckin’ crazy.” Billy said, shock still on his face.</p><p>Steve just laughed. His voice sounded rough, scratchy and totally unfamiliar to him. “You too.”</p><p>He was pretty sure he could feel Billy’s length, pressing firm against his thigh. He might have made fun of him, if he wasn’t aware of the fact that he was hard, too. Billy seemed to be only catching up to that now, his gaze flickering down to train on the way Steve’s cock was tenting his jeans.</p><p>Then it was back on Steve’s face again. “Fucking crazy, and fucked up too.” Billy reiterated, leaning in… pushing his knee between Steve’s legs and — he gasped, at the pressure of it.</p><p>“Y–you too.” Steve just repeated himself, he felt a little like a broken record now. Billy snorted at that… snapped his teeth right in front of Steve’s face. He flinched back from it, the clack of bone loud in the silence of winter, the sharp grin that spread over Billy’s face.</p><p>“Tell me something I don’t know.” Was all Billy said, still too smug for his own good. Licking over his lips like he was hungry for something.</p><p>Steve just rolled his eyes, right before summoning up enough spit and blood in his mouth to really give it good when he spat it all back in Billy’s face.</p><p>“<em>Fuck! </em>” Billy hissed, wiping at the bridge of his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. His face was all scrunched up, disgusted. Steve watched in awe as a little drip of saliva rolled down Billy’s cheek.</p><p>“You gonna get me off, or you gonna just keep barking like some dog on a chain?” Steve asked, a little shiver running down his spine at the dark look Billy shot him. Or maybe it was from the snow melting under him, soaking into his clothes and numbing his skin.</p><p>Billy’s hands grabbed Steve’s wrists, tugged them up and pressed them into the ground above his head — as if there was any chance that Steve was actually going to push him away. </p><p>Steve just laughed at it, laughed as Billy shifted until he was holding him there with one hand… laughed at the way Billy pushed his other hand into Steve’s face, muffling him and forcing him to look to the side.</p><p>“Shut up.” Billy grunted, grinding his hips down, rocking into Steve… the drag of rough fabric and the pressure of Billy’s stiff cock making Steve arch his back, jerking his hips up into it — searching out more of that friction.</p><p>It shouldn't have felt that good, Billy's body on his... there wasn't even any direct skin contact, if anything it should have been frustrating. But each time he felt Billy's hips digging into him, each smooth roll of their bodies together. It was like he had sparks shooting off under his skin, that familiar warmth pooling and tingling in his gut.</p><p>He sucked in a sharp breath as pleasure mounted, got some of Billy’s fingers in his mouth when his lips parted. They tasted like weed and dry skin. A little metallic, too. He sucked on them, just to hear the groan it dragged out of Billy.</p><p>Billy just buried his face into Steve’s neck, panted hot breaths across his skin… lay all his heavy, oppressive weight into Steve and mouthed messily at the marks left behind from his hands. Steve’s skin stung with it, and he was trembling from the sensation as Billy rut down into him, finding a rhythm — dry humping Steve like that was all they were really capable of.</p><p>And maybe it was, Steve knew he was flying high… figured there was a good chance that Billy was, too.</p><p>Steve cried out at the first scrape of teeth over the bruises forming under his skin, hissed at the pain and… felt the way his cock kicked in his jeans, a spurt of precum wetting the fabric.</p><p>He felt like maybe he was learning something about himself here, the way he throbbed in his jeans when Billy did something that hurt... the way he felt like he was dangling over the edge, like all he needed was one tiny push and he'd be there.</p><p>It was depraved, and he wanted more.</p><p>“C–come on… harder, don’t be a fucking pussy.” Steve meant for it to sound like a demand, but it came out a lot more like begging. He could hear it in his voice… the way he was pleading. Billy responded by digging his teeth into Steve’s neck, biting down hard. Steve came in his pants instantly — helpless in the face of that searing pain, mixed with the little twist of pleasure building up in his gut each time Billy ground the firm line of their clothed cocks together.</p><p>He came in his underwear, soaking through the fabric, warm against his skin. It was uncomfortable almost immediately, sticky and slick and... Steve could feel the way his spent cock was just chafing against the harsh fabric of his jeans now as Billy kept rutting against him — chasing his own release.</p><p>Billy’s teeth released, his tongue dragging against the tender skin of Steve’s neck in its place. And he road Steve’s wet hip once, twice. And then he was tensing, his whole body pulling taut over Steve as he finished. Then all his weight was on Steve, as he went boneless… Breathing a sigh of relief against Steve’s abused neck, lips brushing over the spit slick skin.</p><p>Steve felt disgusting, pain still tingling across his neck. Spreading out from the spot Billy’s teeth had dug into, all through the expanse of skin marked from the way Billy's fingers had <em>squeezed</em>. His underwear soaked with cum, the back of him frozen through with melted snow…</p><p>He tugged his wrist free from Billy’s hand, easy now with how lax he’d gone — shoved at his chest, pushed Billy away with all the strength he had left.</p><p>Billy just rolled over, watched Steve get up with lazy, hooded lids.</p><p>“You can stay out here, but you’ll probably freeze to death so…” Steve spoke the words, clipped— kicking at Billy’s shin, just hard enough for it to hurt.</p><p>Billy groaned, but he got up and followed Steve back into the house. Grabbing his arm and wheeling him around as they passed the threshold. They’d left the sliding doors open, and it was just as cold in Tommy’s now basement as it was outside.</p><p>Tommy was still sleeping, blissfully unaware of anything that was happening.</p><p>“You tell <em>anyone</em>…” Billy started to say, that danger slowly seeping back into his tone as the satisfied fog of climax started to leave him.</p><p>“What, you think this isn't just as fucked for me?” Steve bit back, pulling his wrist free from Billy’s grip. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be caught dead with you.”</p><p>He left with that. Stalked his way to the bathroom down here, slamming the door loud enough to wake Tommy— just because he was feeling spiteful. </p><p>Steve did his best to clean away the mess of cum spread over his skin, scrubbed at the wet spot in his jeans with one of Tommy’s towels. Got distracted only once, staring into the mirror at the red, blotchy marks spreading over his throat.</p><p>Tommy was wiping at sleepy eyes when he’d left the bathroom, Billy was already gone. He made his excuse and left, too. Before the guy could get a good look at him. </p><p>Before anything about the panic in Steve’s eyes could give him away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been writing about snow a lot recently, GUESS I'M JUST IN THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>